


Everywhere Touch Me

by rhymeswithpapaya



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Awkward Boners, College AU, Friends to Lovers, M/M, and then the frickle frackle, awkward first meetings, masseuer!Marco, there is cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 12:58:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1858860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhymeswithpapaya/pseuds/rhymeswithpapaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean goes to the Trost Wellness Center to get a massage from Mikasa, but ends up getting one from some freckled guy, Marco, instead. Then, Jean can't stop thinking about Marco's beautiful fingers and how he wants them all over his body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everywhere Touch Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday present for my wonderful unni, who demanded gay smuttiness, and I've done my best to deliver! I turns out I can't write PWP because I desperately need to write about cute Marco without stopping.
> 
> Anyways, forewarning: I don't know a lot about physical therapy grad school programs (I couldn't exactly call my friend currently in one to ask about advice for gay porn haha) and I don't know about fixing cars. These things should be taken with a grain of salt.
> 
> I'm already in love with this AU and hope I get to write more of it someday. I hope you all enjoy!

Jean sat in the waiting room at the Trost Wellness Center, riding a high of nerves and anticipation. Last week, Connie had lost a bet to him (one that should probably never be talked about in polite company) and Jean had been paid in full only hours ago.

“I called Mikasa, she says she has an appointment open at three o’clock,” Connie told him, already opening his wallet to hand Jean a wad of cash. “I can’t believe I’m enabling you like this.”

Jean, like everyone knew, had an enormous, borderline obsessive, crush on Mikasa Ackerman. It was also common knowledge that Mikasa was currently studying towards a degree in physical therapy, and that she worked part time at Trost Wellness Center for work experience. One of the services offered at Trost Wellness Center was massage. And Mikasa, as an employee of said establishment, was able to administer full body massages to her clients.

“It’s not creepy,” Jean frowned, taking the money from Connie. It wasn’t that Jean didn’t have the money personally; it was just more satisfying that he’d made Connie pay for it.

Connie just put a hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, dude, it is.”

And while Jean continued to wait in the spa-like environment for his appointment, he continued to argue with himself over whether Connie was right. He was at law school, after all, so he needed to practice making arguments. Mikasa’s annoying brother Eren was also enrolled at the law school, and currently far, far away from cock blocking Jean.

The door to the waiting room opened. “Jean Kirschstein?”

Jean looked up. “Yeah, that’s me.”

A particularly flustered looking guy nodded at him. “If you’ll come this way, we can get started.” Jean just nodded and stood up to follow him further into the office. They walked a short distance before the guy opened up a door and pointed Jean inside. The room had low lighting, gentle music, and a big massage table in the middle.

“I’m Marco, I’ll be massaging you today,” the guy said, still standing at the door. “I’ll give you a minute to get ready, and then I’ll knock before coming in.”

Jean did a double take. “What… you? Where’s Mikasa? I scheduled an appointment with Mikasa.”

“She isn’t in right now, so I took over her appointment,” Marco smiled.

“What do you mean she isn’t here? I called earlier today and confirmed that she would be working,” Jean said. He crossed his arms over his chest, beginning to feel angry that things weren’t going his way. There was no way this guy was supposed to be massaging him. If it wasn’t Mikasa doing it, Jean wasn’t interested in being touched all over.

Marco seemed to catch on to Jean’s attitude. “I’m sorry, sir, but Mikasa simply isn’t available. I’d be more than happy to massage you,” he said, still smiling, but this time it wasn’t genuine.

Jean sighed. “Isn’t there at least a girl that can do it or something?” He didn’t want Connie’s money to go to waste, knowing how hard he worked for it. Still, he couldn’t imagine himself enjoying a massage if Marco was the one giving it. The guy looked kind of goofy, completely covered in freckles with big dumb ears, and not the type that would take this kind of thing seriously.

“I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable with this arrangement, sir,” Marco apologized shortly. “There aren’t any other masseurs available right now, though. If you want, I can reschedule your appointment for another time. But, I am very good at my job, and I’m very professional. I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. We can do this at your pace.” Marco looked evenly at Jean, no hint of mocking in his tone.

Jean had the decency to feel abashed after that. It wasn’t Marco’s fault that Mikasa wasn’t there. He was just there to do his job, and Jean had to go and be a dick about it. “Okay. Mikasa’s my friend, so I was just expecting to see her. You’ll be fine though.” It was as close to an apology as Marco would get from him.

Marco raised his eyebrow at that, looking almost offended that he was second best. “Well, then, like I said, I’ll be outside until you’re ready.”

“Wait, what am I supposed to be doing?”

“Taking off your clothes and getting under that sheet,” Marco pointed to the sheet draped over the massage table.

Jean flushed despite himself. Marco probably said those same words to other clients all the time, and therefore didn’t see anything wrong with being so blunt. Or maybe Jean just thought it sounded blunt because he’d never heard that particular arrangement of words directed at him, in a sexual situation or otherwise. “Uh, all my clothes?”

Marco cracked a smile. “You can leave your underwear on, if you want.” Then he shut the door behind him, leaving Jean with his jaw hanging wide open.

So people usually lay there naked? Jean wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought that part through. He would probably even be hesitant if Mikasa was the one massaging him like he’d planned. Not that he wasn’t confident in his body, or anything.

Jean took off his shoes, socks, pants, and shirt, leaving on his boxers like Marco had suggested. He felt awkward lying down on the table, like maybe he was doing it the wrong way. He lay down on his stomach, propped up on his forearms, and pulled the sheet up over his hips.

There was a knock at the door a few moments later. “Yeah, go ahead,” Jean said.

Marco came back into the room wearing a huge grin. “Very good, Jean,” he praised him. Jean felt his cheeks grow hot, wondering why Marco decided to use his name this time, instead of calling him “sir” like before.

“You can relax,” Marco told him, standing at the table beside Jean’s head. “Lay down completely, with your arms at your sides. Your face goes in the hole.”

“I know that,” Jean grumbled, but did as he was told. He heard Marco stifle a laugh.

“Is there any place in particular you want me to focus on today, Jean?” Marco asked. It sounded like he was rubbing his hands together, with something slick in-between.

“I don’t know, not really.”

This didn’t seem to bother Marco. “That’s alright. We’ll get started with your back. I’m going to touch you know, okay, Jean?”

Jean didn’t know why Marco had announced that, but his throat still felt thick as he swallowed and said, “Okay.”

As soon as Marco’s warm hands were on his back, resting between with shoulder blades, Jean realized that he’d been applying massage oil to his hands before. Marco slowly began to rub his open palms across the expanse of Jean’s back in slow, easy circles. Then his hands moved up, finding Jean’s shoulders, which he began to knead gently.

“How’s the pressure, Jean?” Marco asked quietly.

Jean felt like rubber in Marco’s hands. Jesus. “ ‘S good,” was all he could get out.

Marco was quiet while he worked, the only thing that filled the silence was the zen-like music and Jean’s own deep breathing. He could feel Marco leaning his body weight into his hands, could feel him angling himself to get to the spots that made Jean drool. Jean was lost by the time Marco’s hands were sliding down his sides, stopping at his hips before Marco picked them back up to make the circuit again.

Jean was languid and pliant when Marco moved on to his arms. He felt himself melting into the table underneath him and wondering if it was common for people to fall asleep during a massage. But then Marco moved onto his legs.

Marco lifted the sheet off of Jean’s legs and folded it up so that it only covered Jean’s boxers. The cool air on his legs after being snug under the sheet woke Jean up a little bit. And then Marco pressed his warm hands against Jean’s left thigh and began kneading down towards his knee, tantalizingly slow. He would then drag his hands back to the starting point, right below Jean’s boxers, to start again.

Suddenly, all Jean could think about were Marco’s hands on his body. His long, strong fingers were rubbing at Jean’s inner thigh. Jean’s eyes were closed, but he could picture those hands as they worked on the sensitive nerves that lived there, and could picture them traveling up even further. If Jean hadn’t been wearing his boxers, how far up Jean’s leg would Marco have gone? Then, one of Marco’s fingers strayed and left a whisper of a touch right underneath the hem of Jean’s boxers and Jean nearly _lurched_ into the table with want.

Jean’s heart was pounding now. He hoped his breathing didn’t sound too irregular to Marco, because he sure as hell wasn’t taking deep breaths anymore. Fuck, he was getting hard. Marco’s hands were lighting up Jean’s spine and he shuddered, goose bumps traveling down his exposed skin.

Marco had moved onto his calf by now, but he paused. “Everything okay, Jean?” he asked.

Jean started to panic and was fucking pleased that Marco couldn’t see his red face. “Uh, yeah,” he choked. “I was just really zoned out.”

Marco chuckled. Jean liked the sound. “That happens. Relax your leg for me, you just tensed up.”

Jean tried and failed to do as Marco said, but Marco didn’t make any comment. He just went back to work on Jean’s calf before moving on to his right thigh. Jean visibly flinched when Marco touched it. Marco paused briefly before continuing. Jean felt like he was being tortured. He was fully hard now, his embarrassment not tempering him whatsoever. Every stroke against his thigh became a stroke on his cock in his mind’s eye. He could picture Marco’s fingers wrapped around him, lazily stroking until Jean was begging to come. He bit his lip, urging himself not to do anything completely degrading while Marco was touching him, like whimper. His whole body was hot and he didn’t know how much more he could take.

Marco finished his leg and Jean almost cried when he took his hands away. “Flip over and I’ll do your front.”

Jean’s eyes shot wide open. There was no way in hell he should be even more aroused by those words. He was painfully hard as it was, his cock smashed against the table. If he flipped over, the sheet would tent and Marco would have to sue him for sexual harassment. There was no possible way to play it off without coming off like a complete lech.

“No, no, you don’t have to… do my front,” Jean said hurriedly. He took a deep breath and forced his face into a passive mask before he raised his head to look up at Marco.

“Are you sure?” Marco asked, confused. His eyes crinkled up in the corners and he tilted his head in a way Jean would not call endearing. He flexed his hands in front of him and… oh God, Jean couldn’t look at those beautiful, graceful, freckled hands without wanting them all over him again.

“Yes,” he ground out. “I’m fine. I’m done for today.”

Marco shrugged, as if to say _suit yourself_. “Okay. Well take some time to relax. You have extra time, so take as long as you need. You’re the last appointment for today. I’ll be out front when you finish.”

Jean nodded, but didn’t trust himself to say anything else. Marco gave him a little smile before he opened the door and left the room, shutting it softly behind him.

Jean let out a long sigh of relief and buried his head in his hands. How could this have happened? He knew it had been a while since he’d had sex, but he didn’t think that he was that desperate for human touch. Fuck, would he have had that same reaction to Mikasa? He forced himself to believe that he would’ve. It wasn’t his fault his body had reacted the way it did, right? Anyone else’s hands would’ve been the same…

That track of mind wasn’t helping Jean’s situation. The more he thought about Marco’s hands, the more difficult it was for him to calm down. His cock ached and he was desperate to get off, but he knew better than to take care of business in the massage room. With a groan, he forced himself back into his clothes while thinking about cold showers and his parent’s disappointment. That and his tight jeans seemed to do the trick for the time being.

Cautiously, Jean opened the door to his massage room, blinking against the brighter light in the hallway. He saw a woman walk past him in the direction of the nurse’s station, where Marco would probably be waiting for him, so he followed.

The woman turned the corner and exclaimed, “Marco! You’re done already?”

“Yeah, easy day,” Jean heard Marco say good-naturedly in return. He couldn’t see Marco or the woman around the corner, but he felt awkward interrupting their conversation.

“It was so nice of you to cover Mikasa’s appointment on your day off,” the woman went on.

“It’s no problem. I know she would’ve done the same for me if I asked,” Marco replied.

“Still, you came all the way over here for just one appointment? I’m impressed. And from what I overheard, the guy was being a dick.”

Jean’s stomach sank. He was the dick that made the guy with beautiful hands come in on his day off and then proceeded to bitch at him. And after that, he’d only gone through with half the session. There was no way that Marco wouldn’t agree with this woman. Connie told Jean he was a jerk all the time and he knew it was true, but it still stung to hear it from strangers.

Strangely, Marco just laughed. “I’m sure he was just stressed. That’s probably why he was getting a massage in the first place, right?”

The woman sounded affectionate when she sighed. “You’re too sweet,” she said. Jean had to agree. “Anyways, sorry we couldn’t give you any more hours today.”

“That’s okay, Hanji. I have plenty of homework for when I get home, I promise I won’t get lonely,” Marco said. The woman, Hanji, just laughed at that before Jean heard her footsteps going in the opposite direction as she left the nurse’s station.

Jean leaned against the wall, lacking energy. This guy was a student, like him, probably like Mikasa. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much that he’d screwed up this guy’s day. Usually he didn’t care at all. Jean only barely put an effort into giving as good as he got in terms of friendliness. Still, Marco had actually defended Jean in front of his boss. Why would he do that, after Jean had been so rude to him? This guy didn’t make sense at all.

Taking a deep breath (after making sure there was no longer a tenting situation in his pants), Jean took the final steps to the nurse’s station and spotted Marco. He was looking at a huge textbook on the desk in front of him, taking notes in a spiral bound notebook. Jean coughed awkwardly to get his attention. Marco looked up and smiled at his undeserving client.

“Jean! You’re all finished?”

“Um, yeah,” Jean replied. He couldn’t bring himself to look Marco in the eye without blushing at his dumb face.

“Alright! Do you want to set up another appointment?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m good.” There was no way he’d risk that happening again.

“Oh, okay,” Marco said. Jean looked up and saw that Marco almost looked disappointed. Why should he be upset that he was getting rid of such a terrible client? This guy was seriously confusing. “Well you’re all set then, since you took care of everything else when you checked in. Have a great day!”

“Thanks,” Jean nodded. Then, he hastily exited the Trost Wellness Center, feeling loose-limbed and definitely not more aroused after seeing Marco’s parting smile, or the way he’d waved his fingers goodbye.

If he thought about it when he was in the shower that night, it was his business.

 

___________________________________________ 

 

It had been a week since what Jean liked to call “The Incident” in his own mind, and he was doing a good job not thinking about it. Of course, he was actually blatantly denying it ever happened, but as long as the events surrounding “The Incident” were only known on his part, no one had to know how deeply in denial he was. He’d told Connie that Mikasa hadn’t been his masseur after all, but that was it. Connie had then adamantly informed Jean that he was not getting another massage on his dime, and settled the matter by sitting on Jean’s stomach while playing video games.

It was a Thursday and Jean had picked up Sasha from work to take her back to his and Connie’s apartment to hang out. She’d worked at her parent’s bakery since they all graduated high school together five years ago and she lived above the shop. Jean heard her complain almost constantly about how she had to wake up at four a.m. to start baking for the day, but when she was actually in the kitchen, or forcing new culinary inventions on unsuspecting friends, she never looked happier.

They were driving down the road, blasting music through the speakers of Jean’s BMW (a shameless present from his loaded parents for completing undergrad and continuing to meet their expectations by going to grad school to become a lawyer) when it suddenly made terrible grinding noises and began to shudder to a halt. Jean quickly pulled off onto the shoulder, swearing.

“This is a new goddamned car, what the fuck?” he exclaimed as he threw the car in park.

Sasha looked unaffected. “Way to go, Jean.” He flipped her off. She snorted. “Classy to the end.” She pulled a bag of chips out of her purse and started to crunch on them in a disgusting display she knew he’d hate. Clearly, they knew each other too well.

Jean reluctantly popped the hood of his car and climbed out to take a look at the engine. Sasha followed him, her ponytail whipping in the wind. After staring at the engine for a few moments did not illuminate the problem, Sasha sighed.

“You don’t know bum fuck about cars, do you?”

“No, but neither do you!” Jean spluttered, crossing his arms defensively.

She pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll just have to save your ass like always,” she said, scrolling through her contacts.

Jean ignored the insult. “Who are you calling?”

“Reiner? Do you think he’s back at his place yet?”

“I don’t know. Do you think he’d be able to fix it?”

She shrugged. “Seems most likely.” But Reiner, one of Jean’s across the hall neighbors, didn’t answer his phone. “Maybe he’s busy with Bertl.”

Jean sighed, running a hand through his blonde hair. “It’s not like Connie can come get us on the bus. I guess we’ll just have to tow it,” he grimaced.

Sasha started searching for phone numbers of towing companies while Jean continued to whine at his engine helplessly. He went into his car to grab his own phone, thinking he might try to contact Reiner again. Then, as he sat in the driver seat composing a text, some beater car passed by his and pulled up on the shoulder in front of him. Sasha started waving frantically at whoever was about to get out of the car.

“We’ve been saved!” she cried dramatically before running up to meet the driver.

“Sasha!” Jean jumped out of the car. “Come back here, that could be a murderer for all you know!” Why was he the only one of his friends (a.k.a. Connie and Sasha) that thought things through before acting? It was only through extreme acts of divine intervention that they’d made it so far in life already.

The driver, a man, got out of his car and Sasha immediately latched onto him with a crushing hug. Jean could hear her singing terribly, “Did I ever tell you you’re my heeeeeerrrrroooooo?”

And then, fuck everything, Jean saw a face full of freckles.

“Hey Sasha,” Marco laughed at her warbling. “I didn’t even know it was your car. I just thought whoever was pulled over could use a hand.”

Fuck this guy and his beautiful hands, which were on Sasha’s shoulders, and his bright smile, and his selfless acts of charity. Jean hated him for being so goddamned perfect.

“It’s Jean’s car,” Sasha told him, pointing to Jean, who’d stubbornly stayed by his car.

Marco looked over at Jean and his eyes widened comically in surprise. “Jean?”

Sasha dragged him over to Jean’s car. “This is my friend, Jean, I don’t think you’ve met him yet,” Sasha introduced him.

“Oh, I actually met him last week,” he grinned, brown eyes lighting up in the setting sunlight. It makes Jean feel a little breathless. “Good to see you again, Jean. Sorry about your car.”

Jean was still in the middle of some kind of crisis over seeing the object of his recent wank fantasies, and the first thing he could manage to blurt out was, “How do you know Sasha?” It came off a little defensive, and Jean winced afterwards, biting his lip and wondering when he became so socially inept.

Sasha just rolled her eyes. “He’s friends with Bertl and Reiner. I met him at the party they had a few months ago. The one that _you_ were too cool to go to because you were too busy getting off with Hitch the Bitch.”

“Ugh, let’s not talk about those dark days,” Jean pleaded. He was too embarrassed to look Marco in the face, even though he probably didn’t know who Hitch was, or that Jean used to date her. For that matter, why would he care about Jean’s love life at all? Why did Jean care whether or not he cared?

Marco just raised his eyebrows, sidestepping the conversation topic. “Well, should we take a look at your car?”

“Do you know a lot about cars, Marco?” Sasha asked.

He shyly rubbed a finger under his nose. “I know enough to fix my car every time it breaks down and can’t afford to take it to the shop.”

Sasha patted him on the back encouragingly. Jean wished he could touch Marco that easily. “Then it sounds like we’re in good hands, right, Jean?” she looked at him very pointedly.

“Uh, yeah,” Jean mumbled. “Thanks, man.” That sounded like a straight thing to say, right? Wait, why was he worrying about what sounded straight?

Marco ducked his head and Jean swore he saw him blushing. But then he was back to his normal, cheery self, leaning under the hood of the car to get a better look at the engine.

“Oh, I see what the problem is,” he said after a couple minutes. He was starting to ramble something, his hands flashing in the air in front of him while he talked, and Jean was mesmerized. It took him an embarrassingly long time to realize that he’d completely zoned out. “I’ll get my toolbox out of my car,” he said.

Jean nodded, trying not to look as flustered as he felt. He wasn’t sure if he was entirely successful. When Sasha started waggling her eyebrows at him, he knew he wasn’t.

He opened his mouth to protest, already knowing what she was going to say, but she cut him off. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna be your wingman. I’m gonna wingman the fuck out of this.”

“What? No!” Jean scowled at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Please,” she scoffed. “You’ve been checking him out since he got here. How did you meet him anyways?”

Jean only stopped himself from taking drastic action against Sasha thanks to Marco’s return, toolbox in hand. He took a moment to roll his sleeves up, exposing his strong, freckled forearms. Jean felt lightheaded as his line of sight traveled up to the slope of Marco’s broad shoulders that strained his shirt as he leaned forwards. Sasha poked Jean in the side and motioned for him to pick his jaw up from off the floor. He flicked her off.

The two of them stood there uselessly while Marco fiddled around with God knows what, chattering all the while about his own car and all the times he’d ended up stranded on the side of the road.

When Marco paused, realizing he was perhaps not reaching his audience, Sasha jumped in. “So, Marco, are you still dating Thomas?”

Marco frowned. “No. We, uh… wanted different things, I guess.”

“Man, boys are the worst,” Sasha commiserated. “Why do we even put up with them?”

Marco couldn’t help but laugh at that. It was a genuine thing, all the crinkling the corners of his eyes and the flashing of straight, white teeth. Jean was drawn in, intoxicated by the sound of his laugh, and wondered when Marco’s honest mirth had become precious, not annoying.

“You’re gay?” Jean practically squeaked. His face was burning up, half from his verbal diarrhea, half from surprise to find out that the fact made him feel hopeful.

Marco was taken aback, his smile falling from his face as easily as it graced it. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I am.” He was looking at the engine, putting all his focus on twisting some bolt or other with his wrench.

“Way to be subtle, Jean,” Sasha chided him. He felt two feet tall under her admonishment and Marco’s discomfort.

“No, I mean, it’s cool! Totally, it’s fine, I just… I didn’t know,” Jean heard himself saying. Marco didn’t respond. Sasha elbowed Jean in the side to get him to stop talking.

“Well, I’ve done all I can do here,” Marco cleared his throat. “Uh, you should still take it into the shop, though.” He started repacking his things. Jean got back in his car and, not surprisingly, the car started. He couldn’t help but think that Marco had magic hands.

He went back out and gave Marco a thumbs up before closing the hood. Sasha swept Marco into a hug. “Thank you so much for helping us out! Promise you’ll come by the bakery tomorrow? I’ll give you free food,” she winked.

“Oh, you really don’t have to…”

“Dude, let her feed you, it’s her thing,” Jean interjected.

Marco nodded. “Sure, I’ll be there tomorrow, thanks.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and looked at the time. “Well, it’s getting late, I have to get going. You know, if you go to Shadis’ shop and mention my name, he’ll give you a discount. He owes me one.”

Jean really, really wanted to kiss Marco in that moment. After he thought he completely blew it with him, for the second time, Marco was showing him, again, how generous and kind he was.

“Thank you, Marco,” he said seriously. “I don’t know what we would’ve done without you.”

“It’s nothing,” Marco blushed, looking down at his feet.

“I’ll see you at the bakery tomorrow?” Jean asked, hoping he didn’t seem too desperate.

Marco considered him for a moment, searching Jean’s expression. Then, he relaxed and ran his long fingers through his hair. “Yeah, I guess I will.”

After Marco drove away, Sasha flicked Jean in the head in irritation. Jean just grimaced, and Sasha could tell he was repentant. She ruffled his hair affectionately. “He could be good for you.”

Jean couldn’t even bring himself to pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about. He couldn’t stop smiling.

 

­­­­­­­­­­­

   

___________________________________________________________________________________

 

Over the next few weeks, Jean felt like he saw Marco everywhere. Somehow, Marco had been existing on the outskirts of his perception for the entire semester. All of his friends were friends with Marco, and it was hard not to be with his constantly sunny disposition and sincere kindness. In the past, Jean would’ve felt embarrassed to be falling for someone so inherently  _good_. It still felt weird, but less because he saw Marco as a geek and more because he didn’t know that, with his own cynical personality, he could find anyone or anything so adorable.

He would see Marco at the bakery with Sasha, licking crumbs off his fingers and laughing when she told him what was in the pastry he’d just tested. Or, Marco would be in the library with Armin, poring over books with a furrow in his brow. Jean would watch as he bit his lip in concentration while dragging a pointer finger across the pages. And Jean would only feel a little jealous of the books before smacking his head on a table to make thoughts like that go away. Marco would look up at him, concerned, and Jean would have to shrug sheepishly.

There was also the time that he was hanging out with Bertl across the hall and they’d gone to pick up his boyfriend, Reiner, from the gym. Jean had learned, very suddenly, that in addition to going to grad school full time for physical therapy like Mikasa, and putting in time at Trost Wellness for work experience, Marco also worked part time at the gym as a personal trainer. The image of Marco, glistening with sweat in his revealing workout gear, burned into his retinas while he gaped, dry-mouthed and unable to speak. Reiner, that fucking tank, almost knocked Jean over laughing at his expression. That caught Marco’s attention from across the gym, and he’d come over to say hello. Apparently, he’d met Reiner while consulting on a baseball injury and they sometimes trained together. Jean just nodded along, trying not to faint from the lack of blood in his head. Reiner wouldn’t let him live it down later, of course.

In fact, it was becoming steadily apparent to Jean’s “friends” that he had a thing for Marco. They didn’t always say things outright (most of them could be more subtle than Reiner), but Jean didn’t miss the way they’d subtly move out of the way so Jean could stand or sit next to Marco. He tried to resent everyone for it, but all his energy went towards not making a complete ass of himself whenever he had the chance to talk to Marco. It was through small conversations like these Jean discovered that Marco had gone to Jinae University for undergrad, unlike him and everyone else that’d gone to Trost and stayed. Marco had three younger siblings, loved spicy food, hated horror movies, didn’t like wearing watches, wore braces in high school, and read Russian literature for fun. Jean was becoming a veritable Marco encyclopedia, and he treasured each new factoid he was trusted to collect.

Before Jean knew it, it was the end of the semester and Reiner and Bertl had decided to throw a party in their apartment to celebrate. Bertl was in school, so he looked visibly more relaxed once he was done with exams. Reiner just wanted an excuse to have a party.

“I guess we’ll invite you so you don’t call the cops to complain about the noise,” he told Jean the night of the party after knocking on his door.

“Way to pity invite me, man,” Jean rolled his eyes.

Reiner just laughed in the hallway. “Man, I invited you and Connie already, I guess he forgot to tell you.”

“Damn baldie.”

“Marco’s coming,” Reiner added.

Jean cleared his throat, trying to look cool and unaffected. “That’s nice.”

Reiner put his huge ass paw-hands on Jean’s shoulders. “Dude, you need to seal the deal before someone else scoops him up. There’s this guy at the gym that’s always flirting with him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jean shrugged him off. “Does… does he like him?”

“He’s really hot. Sent my gaydar off the charts,” Reiner said, his eyes wide.

Jean punched him in the shoulder. “Stop fucking with me. Besides, I don’t like Marco… that way. We’re just… friends, I think,” he said unconvincingly.

“Let’s see if we can change that.”

After that, Jean definitely _didn’t_ spend two hours deciding what he would wear to the party, or deciding what he could say to Marco when he casually ran into him. Connie and Sasha kept running into his room to badger him, but their typical annoying antics actually put him at ease. At least there was something familiar to save him from overthinking everything.

At the party, Jean talked to Armin and Bertl, the two friends Marco would be most likely to talk to first when he arrived. Bertl just kept raising his eyebrows at Jean whenever he looked over his shoulder to see if Marco had shown up yet, but saying nothing. Jean had never hated Bertl and Reiner’s couple telepathy more than in that moment.

“Hi Bertholdt! Thanks for inviting me!” Jean heard a voice behind him. He turned around and there was Marco, wearing a dazzling grin for the party host, a cold beer in his hand. He was wearing tight jeans and a dark navy button down with rolled up sleeves. Jean wanted to climb him like a tree. He briefly wondered if that was the beer talking, but he’d only been nursing one for the past hour so he knew that wasn’t an excuse. There was no way he could deny it anymore: he was hella gay for Marco Bodt.

Bertl and Armin greeted him, while Jean nodded, unable to form coherent sentences. Marco leaned in close to hear something Bertl was saying and Jean could smell whatever cologne he was wearing; the thought of getting closer to smell it at the source went right to his pants.

Then, fuck, Reiner was over there in their little group, making some dumb joke he didn’t listen to because he was watching Marco’s reaction. God, he would never get tired of Marco’s laugh.

“… yeah, I wonder what that would taste like,” he heard Marco say.

“What?” he asked abruptly, finally cluing in to what was going on around him.

Marco pointed to Jean’s beer with his own. “We were saying that if root beer floats are a thing, why not beer floats?”

“I have ice cream,” Jean blurted out again. Shit, he had to focus before everyone thought he was going insane. “I mean, at my place. We could go get some, if you want to test it out.”

“Really? You don’t think that it’s an experiment that’s doomed to fail?”

Jean shrugged. “Never know until you try,” he said, with a sip of his beer. At that comment, Reiner nudged him in the side with a look that said _exactly_. He tried not to see it as a metaphor for his relationship, whatever it was, with Marco.

Marco handed Armin his beer. “Can we go get it, then?”

“Uh, sure.” Jean’s heart was pounding. Bertl, Reiner, and Armin all smiled at him, pushing him along behind Marco to the exit.

The last thing he heard in that apartment was Eren snickering and saying, “Oh man, Connie, you’re gonna owe Reiner so much money.”

Marco was standing out in the hallway in front of Jean’s apartment. “This is your place, right?”

Jean nodded, silently passing to open the door. Inside, he turned on the lights and awkwardly led Marco to the fridge. He hoped that there was actually ice cream in his freezer; with Sasha always hanging around, chances were slim.

“Your place is nice,” Marco said. “Way bigger than mine.”

“I bet yours is cleaner, though,” Jean smirked. Both he and Connie were pretty messy, if the huge load of laundry sitting on the little kitchen table was anything to go by.

Marco grinned in return. “True. It’s hard for me to focus in a dirty apartment.”

“But you’re at the library most of the time.”

“Yeah, um,” Marco faltered. Was he blushing? He twisted his hands together and looked overwhelmingly bashful. “I guess I like the environment.”

Jean tried to take his time to open the freezer door, wanting to prolong the conversation. “What about it?”

“What kind of ice cream do you have? Aren’t you usually supposed to use vanilla?” Marco changed the subject. He sounded nervous, and Jean wondered if that was just because he was projecting his own feelings onto Marco.

“It looks like we have…” he trailed off, looking inside, “peanut butter cup and mint chocolate chip.”

“I love mint chocolate chip! Too bad that won’t make a good beer float.”

“I mean, you can still have some, if you want,” Jean offered, pulling it out of the freezer, taking the other carton for himself.

Marco took the ice cream, barely hiding his excitement. “Are you sure?” He watched as Jean pulled out two big spoons and handed one over. “Thanks, Jean!”

Their fingers touched when Marco grabbed the spoon, but he didn’t pull away, and neither did Jean. Marco blushed, staring at their hands curiously. Jean inhaled sharply, and his fingers wrapped around Marco’s almost reflexively. It was the first time he’d touched Marco. During the massage, Marco had been the one touching Jean. It suddenly felt very unfair that the scales were so unbalanced.

“Jean?” Marco said quietly, his deep brown eyes flicking up to catch his attention. Jean noticed how close they were standing to each other. He could feel Marco’s breathy exhale against his cheek. Then, hesitantly, he leaned in further. Marco didn’t back away.

When Jean kissed Marco’s soft lips, his body surging with adrenaline, he could feel Marco pause against him. But then Jean brought his hand up to Marco’s cheek with a tender touch and Marco let go, pressing back into him like it was the easiest thing in the world. Marco dropped the spoon and brought his hands to settle onto Jean’s hips. Jean wrapped his arms around the taller boy’s neck and leaned him into the kitchen counter behind him.

Jean broke off the breathe, but continuing kissing Marco on his jaw, traveling down his long neck. “Jean?” Marco called to him again.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Jean whispered into his skin, licking a stripe against the freckles he found on Marco’s exposed collarbone.

Marco let out a long sigh of relief. “Me too. Ever since you came to get that massage.”

Jean looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow in shock. “Are you serious? Even though I’ve been a complete ass since I first met you?”

“Yes, I even like you when you’re an ass, Jean,” Marco admitted with a chuckle. He put a hand under his chin to bring him back to his own lips. “Don’t stop kissing me,” he demanded.

And Jean was more than happy to oblige. He pushed Marco so that he was sitting on the counter, legs spread open for him to stand in between. He felt Marco’s hands traveling down his back, pushing up under his shirt, and their kissing grew filthier and wetter with the addition of tongue. Jean felt like he was melting under Marco’s ministrations, which were increasing in urgency. Marco released a tiny, satisfied moan into Jean’s mouth as he bit down on his bottom lip.

Jean ran his hand through Marco’s short hair and tugged gently. “I want you to touch me all over,” he said, his voice lowered with lust. He felt his hardening cock pressing against Marco’s thigh. Marco smiled mischievously into their kiss and reached a hand down between them to rub it against Jean’s clothed erection. Jean bucked into him with a whimper.

“Is that where you want me to touch you?” he asked, licking his lips when Jean looked at him with lidded eyes.

“Fuck yes,” Jean panted. He began to pull away from Marco, still refusing to stop kissing him, and slowly he led the way into his bedroom, kicking the door closed behind them with his foot. The toppled down onto the bed together, Marco laughing when they bumped foreheads.

Marco took the break in kissing as a chance to look down at Jean seriously. “Do you want to do this, Jean?” Jean nodded his head a little to eagerly. “Have you… ever… before?”

“Not with a guy, no,” Jean said, locking his fingers in between Marco’s. “But I want to do it with you. I’ve wanted it since you first touched me.”

Marco flushed even darker, his freckles standing out in the dimly lit room. “I really thought you hated me when I did that,” he said quietly.

“Marco,” Jean kissed him briefly. “I didn’t finish the session with you because I was sporting the biggest boner of my life.”

“Oh my God!” Marco buried his face in Jean’s shoulder.

“There we go, now we’re moving in the right direction,” Jean teased. Marco shoved him playfully. But soon their roughhousing devolved into hotter, messier things as Jean started to rid Marco of his clothes. He’d never had so much trouble unbuttoning a shirt in his life, but Marco helped before tugging Jean’s shirt over his head as well. “Take off your pants,” Jean commanded, working on his own fly.

Marco stood and dropped his pants, kicking his feet out of them, watching Jean wriggle out of his. Unable to wait, Jean leaned up and unceremoniously pulled Marco’s boxers down, watching as his heavy cock sprung free, proudly standing against his taut belly. Jean took a few moments to appreciate the view. Marco was fucking _ripped_ from his days in the gym and working hard at the physical therapist’s. He couldn’t stop himself from running his hands all over Marco’s perfect, freckled skin, pulling him back down onto the bed while his hands wandered down to cup Marco’s round ass. Marco groaned and divested Jean of his boxers.

They were laying completely flush to one another, flushed skin touching skin everywhere, hands scrabbling for purchase on anything they could reach. Marco unhurriedly ground his hips down against Jean’s, their cocks sliding against each other, precum leaking and rubbing against their stomachs.

“Fuck, fuck,” Jean dug his nails into Marco’s back, trying to stop himself from getting to close to the edge.

“What do you want, Jean?” Marco kissed his temple, running a hand through his blonde locks.

“Your fingers. Those goddamned fucking fingers, they’re so gorgeous,” Jean babbled incoherently.

Marco inhaled deeply at Jean’s neck before bringing two fingers up to Jean’s lips, never losing his steady rhythm. He pressed them into Jean’s mouth, saying, “You wanna get these wet for me?” in a fucking raspy voice that had Jean arching up against him. He took the fingers into his mouth eagerly, rolling his tongue around them, sucking hard and slurping loudly. Marco’s eyes glazed over as he watched Jean work on his hand, looking absolutely filthy.

He leaned back and slowly stroked Jean’s cock, pulling his fingers out of Jean’s mouth when he deemed them wet enough. Jean whined in protest, but then Marco was rubbing one hand down a thigh, kneading him like during his massage, and his nerve endings lit up in pleasure. He keened when Marco took his wet fingers and rubbed them against his hole, teasing his entrance gently while his body writhed for more attention.

Marco pressed one finger in carefully, watching Jean’s reaction the entire time. His other hand kept massaging his thigh, and he would occasionally kiss or nip at the sensitive area as well, but never reaching the spot Jean really wanted now that it was lacking attention. It felt weird having Marco’s finger inside him, but the more he thought about the fact that it was _Marco’s finger,_ the hotter he felt. When Marco got his finger in to the knuckle, he added another and scissored them back and forth before hooking them, searching for Jean’s prostate. Stars burst behind Jean’s eyes when Marco found it, and he couldn’t stop himself from fucking himself down onto Marco’s fingers, begging for more. Marco added a third finger, and Jean felt himself coming close to being undone, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as the want built up low in his belly.

“More,” he said, his voice hoarse. “More, Marco. I want… I want you inside of me.”

Marco looked up at him, biting his lip. “Are you sure? We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Jean.”

Jean raised himself up on his elbows to pout down at Marco. “Marco, I need this. Please, it’s not enough. I want this.”

Marco kissed him soundly in response before asking for lube and a condom, which Jean procured from his beside table. “Turn over and get on your knees, it’ll be easier on you.”

Jean did as he was told, panting in anticipation as he heard Marco tear open the condom packet and click open the lube cap before applying it generously. Marco leaned over him and kissed him on the shoulder briefly, running his strong hands down his sides. Jean’s back gave in to the soothing touch and he sighed, letting go of the nerves he felt from being in such a vulnerable position.

“We’ll go slow,” Marco promised. Jean felt him line himself up with his hole, one hand holding Jean’s hips steady. Marco began to push himself in, taking his time as Jean adjusted to the feeling of being filled. It hurt, and Jean found himself biting his lip to keep himself from crying out. Marco rubbed gentle circles into his hips. “You’re doing great, Jean. You look so beautiful. Just relax.”

At Marco’s prompting, Jean let himself relax, and Marco bottomed out, his hips pressed flush against Jean’s ass. Jean hands clenched into the sheets and he forced himself to take deep breaths. Marco’s cock was hot and throbbing inside him; he could barely describe the feeling of being completely filled by Marco, whose fingers were nowhere as thick as what was inside him now.

“Jean,” Marco caught his attention and turned his chin to get sloppy kiss. It was tender and affectionate, and Jean’s heart swelled from the feeling of closeness, from feeling so connected to Marco.

After a few minutes, he couldn’t wait anymore, and he was sure that Marco was having a hard time keeping himself still. “You can move now,” he told him.

Marco maintained his grip on Jean’s hips, but slowly angled himself and pulled out slightly before pushing back in. Jean gasped, and Marco stopped before he was urged to continue. Before long, Marco established a rhythm that had Jean drooling into his pillow.

“Ah, Jean…” Marco moaned. “You’re so tight, baby.” He smacked Jean’s ass and picked up the pace when Jean yelped with pleasure.

“M-Marco, fuck, fuck, you feel so good inside me…” Jean let all the nonsense words he could muster fall out of his lips. Then Marco angled him so that his chest was pressed into the mattress, his cock dragging in between, and Jean could barely breathe for the heat that was exploding through him. The new angle let Marco hit his prostate, and before he knew it he was swearing and probably creating enough of a racket to wake the neighbors. He felt his knees trembling beneath him as he got closer and closer to coming. Marco wrapped his long fingers against his cock and stroked him roughly, his pace becoming more and more stuttered with each thrust.

Jean’s toes curled and he knew he was about to spill. “F-Fuck, I’m… I’m gonna come…”

“Come for me, Jean. Let go,” Marco breathed heavily, kissing the back of Jean’s neck. He brought his free hand up to one of Jean’s and held on tightly. When Marco licked the shell of his ear, Jean couldn’t hold back anymore. He let go of the pressure building inside him and came with a shout, his come shooting out onto the sheets and onto Marco’s hand. Marco continued to stroke him through his orgasm, milking him until there was nothing left. After a few more thrusts Marco followed him over the edge, Jean’s hole clenching around his throbbing cock, and Jean’s lips covering Marco’s heated cries.

They collapsed together, Marco lying heavily on top of Jean for a few moments until he could gain enough strength to pull himself out of Jean and roll over.

“Better than ice cream and beer floats,” Marco laughed breathlessly.

Jean turned over and kissed Marco briefly, tired but happy. “The best. I’m going to keep you in my bed all weekend, Bodt. Mostly because I don’t think I can walk anytime soon. And then I’m going to take you out for a proper date, because I’m a gentleman and I don’t normally put out like this.”

Marco nuzzled against him affectionately. “When you say things like that…” he trailed off.

“When I say things like that what?”

Marco looked up at him, his eyes shining. “You make me feel like the luckiest man in the world.” Jean’s heart leapt and he pulled Marco close to him, holding him tight. He didn’t have to say anything for Marco to understand that he felt the same way, like he’d come home. “But I do have to go to work tomorrow.”

Jean smirked at him slyly. “I’m sure we can think of something.”

When Saturday morning arrived for Jean to see Marco curled up against him, looking adorably soft in his sleep, he grabbed his phone to take care of a few things. First, Mikasa was more than willing to cover Marco’s shift. Second, he set up reservations for Marco’s favorite restaurant for Monday night. And third, he learned that Connie owed Reiner twenty bucks, and that “going out for ice cream” was a new euphemism for sex.

Marco woke up, yawning and stretching, and he didn’t look a bit out of place in Jean’s bed. He spent the weekend making sure that Marco knew that.


End file.
